


Soft

by xmyshya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is damn hot, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Haikyuu Timeskip, Haikyuu smut, I love Atsumu so much, MSBY, haikyuu crack, haikyuu fluff, oh to be yn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmyshya/pseuds/xmyshya
Summary: I am a firm believer that Atsumu CAN be soft. When he wants to. And now he just might.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Atsumu/You
Kudos: 14





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on xmyshya.tumblr.com

Looking at the friend sitting across the table in the quiet corner of this adorable cafe, you can’t help but think how crazy it has been. Mostly because he’s an idiot, but you LOVE that idiot.  
“Y/N? Are ya even listenin’?”  
“Uhh… yes?”  
“What were ya thinkin’ ‘bout so hard anyway?”  
“Okay, uhm, remember when…”

The gym was huge and offered a lot of equipment, half of it having names you’d never heard before. The only problem? It was constantly crowded. Except for crazy early hours, which is why you were dressed in your tracksuit and drenched at 5 am. Yet, you were still not alone at this ungodly time. On the first day, he visibly hesitated before entering, clearly wanting absolutely no company. You couldn’t really blame him, he was probably followed by throngs of fans and paparazzi every day. The man must have deemed you harmful however, because he stayed. Well, at the other end of the enormous room, but stayed.  
He came back on the next day. And next one. And another, and soon enough you were nodding at each other in a silent greeting. This odd ritual continued on for a few weeks, until…  
“Hey, ya… come here often?” _Fuckfuckfuck_ , he was still sporting the smug smile, though his eyes were filled with panic. You stared at him dumbfounded. Guess even celebrities struggle sometimes.  
“Uhh… I… N-no, this is my first time.” Both of you erupted in laughter.  
“Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya.”  
“Oh yeah, I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean… L/N Y/N, nice to meet you too”

“D’ya really gonna rub it in ma face til the end of ma life?”  
“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget when I’m old, so I gotta make use of it till I can.” The blonde doesn’t look happy. Amusing. “So what were you talking about?”  
“Oh right, so there’s gonna be a party for the team and friends, and… uhh… would you like to… be my plus one?”  
Of course you would like to. Love to.  
“Lemme know what colours ya wanna wear.”  
“Ehh? You wanna match or something?” There is a teasing undertone in your question. He either misses it or ignores.  
“I’ve always wanted to do that…”  
But you already know. Black and gold, the colours of his team. Yes, obviously that’s the only reason. It’s completely unrelated to your current imaginations of Atsumu looking smoking hot in a black fitted suit, black shirt, and matte gold tie. Totally not.

You’re still adding final touch ups, when the doorbell rings through the air.  
“Open!”  
In response there’s a click of the door, opening and closing, and Atsumu announces his arrival with a sigh saying why aren’t ya ready yet.  
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”  
You shift from your bedroom to the hall, and he whistles. Sharply. You know you look good in that black dress, hugging tightly all your curves (extra points for a deep notch on the back and thin golden chains), and golden heels. And now, he knows it too.  
Just like you assumed, he does look great. So great, that the only image filling your head as your eyes run down and up on him is how much you want to rip that suit off of him. Party? You’d rather have a one-on-one party against the wall he’s leaning on. Or a kitchen counter. Or a sofa. Shower maybe?  
“Are ya checkin’ me out?” Again that smug look on his face. You really want to wipe it off. With your lips.  
“Must be your imagination.” You push him out of the apartment and lock the door.

One of the greatest mysteries of this world must be why elevator scenes are so… weird. Weirdly hot. You’re both on the opposite ends of the tiny cube, ogling each other and turning your gaze away.  
“Ya really look beautiful.”  
“Thank you.”  
Silence.  
“You look great too. Perfect ten.” You look him straight in the eyes, and if you have the timing right… “Very fuckable.”  
 _Ding_ and the door opens. You brush his chest while walking out. Atsumu forgets to leave the elevator.

Party hall is already swarming with people when you arrive. Faces from magazine covers flash here and there, some of them entertaining whoever wants to listen, some whispering mysterious promises in eager ears, some just roaming around in search of god knows what.  
“I’ll get us some drinks” is one of those promises, and Atsumu leaves your side. He’s quickly replaced by one of those roaming creatures.  
“You here alone?” He’s much too close to your liking.  
“Actually ye-”  
“You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I’m Shugo-”  
“Meian!” The voice of your companion startles you with its sudden proximity, but also brings comfort. As soon as the drink is passed in your hand, you feel his touch on the small of your back.  
“Oh, I didn’t know you two were-”  
“We’re not.”  
“We’re friends.”  
Both of your replies come immediately. Meian straightens up and smiles.  
“So, you wouldn’t mind if I went for her?”  
“Not like I have any right to stop ya.” Miya says calmly, but you can feel his whole body tense up against yours.

“Alright everyone, we’d like to make a toast…” Clinking of glasses interrupts your surprisingly pleasant conversation with the MSBY captain, but soon enough he’s back to flooding you with questions. Atsumu walks away to join his other teammates.  
“Please excuse me.” You don’t even look at the male next to you, focused only on catching up with the blond friend. His questioning gaze burns a hole at the side of your head.  
“I came here with you.”  
“Is that the only reason?” Your eyes meet and you give him a lopsided grin.  
“Nah, you’re much hotter.”  
He stands a little taller, visibly more confident, fuller of himself. His hand finds its way to your hip and he pulls you a little closer.

Next two hours are spent on the dance floor, countless people already pulling you back before you even step outside of the designated area. You’re currently trapped in the arms of none other than Bokuto Koutarou, and you could swear you were swayed by the sheer force of his alone. But you don’t mind, his energy of a nuclear reactor and megawatt smile fully compensate for any inconveniences. The song comes to an end however, and you quickly follow him back to the table.  
“Ya don’t wanna dance anymore?” Atsumu asks when you settle in your chair, looking for something to replenish your energy.  
“Why?”  
“Ya looked so happy on the dance floor. And yet, yer sittin’ here now.”  
“Were you watching me this closely?” His ears fire up like Christmas lights. “I do.”  
“Huh?”  
“I do wanna dance.” For a moment you’re both just staring at each other in silence. Then you notice gears turning slowly in his head, and, at the moment of realisation, a light bulb.  
“May I please have this dance?”  
He holds a hand out, and you place yours in it. Atsumu leads you towards the swaying crowd, and then pulls you close. So close, that your bodies could merge.  
“And the next one too.” He purrs in your ear.

Miya’s breath on your skin is hot and distracting. Does he feel you shiver every time he exhales on your neck? He must, you conclude, since his palm is resting on your bare back.  
“Ya smell so good…” The whisper caresses your ear, his lips so close, yet so far.  
“Mmm… you too.” And those lips curl up.

It’s not just this dance. And not just the next one either. Many dances later and you’re still glued to his body, surrounded by a muscular arm, and one hand still in his. The other one playing mindlessly with his undercut.  
“Looks like Meian found someone to take home t’night.”  
“Hmm? Did you?” You pull a strand of his hair and lightly scratch his nape.  
“Do that again and I might get dangerous.”  
“Maybe I like doing dangerous things?”  
There’s a movement near your thigh, and you both hope those words carry a promise.

It’s well into the night and people start leaving, but it seems like the blonde is still not ready to let you out of his embrace. You lean your head on his shoulder, forehead right under his jaw, and let him rock you gently to the slow music. With eyes closed, breathing in his scent, it feels almost as if you two were the only people here.  
“Are ya tired?” You only purr in response. “Lessgo home then. Wanna stay at mine?”  
“Oya?”  
“I-i-it’s… not whatcha think… A won’t… won’t touch ya.”  
“But if you won’t, then what’s the point?”  
He freezes, agape, and you wonder how the hell someone so hot can become so flustered.  
“But seriously, I don’t have a change of clothes” which is a lie, because you do have spare panties in your tiny purse “or cosmetics, or-”  
“I’ll give ya somethin’ to sleep in.”

The door behind you closes with a quiet _click_. God, it feels so good to finally, _finally_ take these heels off. You put your purse on a drawer right next to the door, and proceed to take your earrings off, placing them neatly in a tiny pouch.  
“Tsumu? Could you help me with the necklace?”  
He doesn’t say anything, instead coming behind you and trying to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Trying, because his hands shake. You take a sneak peek at him through the mirror, at his focused face and slightly poked tongue. He’s so adorable. In the meantime you reach to your hair and start removing the pins, but soon your hands are pulled away and replaced with his. It’s surprising but endearing how gentle this giant man can be. You close your eyes and just enjoy the moment, as your strands tickle your nape one by one. And then something hot and wet tickles your neck, right below your ear. Oh. _Oh_.  
“A… ‘m sorry, a didn’t mean to…” _Nononono, come back here._  
You grab his tie and pull down him to a kiss, a searing clash of lips, slowly beginning to move against one another. One of his hands caresses your back, right under the edge of your dress, the other one pulls your hair gently making you gasp. His tongue slides along your lips painfully slowly, and you chase it with yours until the tips meet. The feeling is electrifying, sending shivers through your whole body.

Undressing Miya Atsumu is similar to unwrapping a Christmas present you’ve been waiting for for months. Button after button, you reveal more and more of his heavenly sculpted chest and stomach, your lips following the hands. He loves it, the feeling of your wet muscle soothing the bites drives him crazy, little purrs he lets out make his chest vibrate. It’s almost unbearable. He decides he can’t take it anymore when you hook your fingers under his pants and start unzipping them, grazing his cock.  
He pulls you close, sliding your dress off of you, and letting it pool at your feet. And then drags you to the bathroom, where he rids both of you of your underwear. The man enters the shower, extending his hand to you, and you grab it by instinct, before being pulled right under the stream of steamy water.  
“‘Tsumu, I’m gonna look like a panda!”  
“Eh? But pandas are cute tho?”  
“I’d rather look hot right now”  
He laughs boyishly, almost innocently, as he pumps some of his face wash and rubs it gently all over your features. His calloused fingertips massage your forehead and temples, while thumbs work on your chin and nose. It fills you with millions of bubbles, cotton candy surrounding your heart as fluffy as the foam.  
“‘Tsumu?”  
“Mmm?”  
“Kiss me.”  
And he does. At first it’s slow and sweet, but as your hands wash away the evening from the skin, there’s more hunger, more passion. Atsumu pulls and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom.  
“‘Tsumuuuu! The towels! We’re NOT sleeping in a wet bed!”  
“Who said anything about sleepin’, princess?”

Idiot.

**Bonus scene:**  
“Good morning sunshine.”  
He whispers against your forehead after your lashes tickle his neck.  
His palms embrace your cheeks, and his lips on yours are as soft as summer rain. Pecks become open mouthed kisses, invitations and promises of summer heat. Breaths and sighs remind you of a seaside breeze, carrying the freshness of waves and hotness of sand. Your hands are roaming in search of a buried treasure, but no matter how much they find, it’s not enough. It’s never enough.  
His mouth ghost over the shells of your ears, spilling words smooth and shiny like pearls, while fingers trail new paths under the veil of your shirt. They discover new lands, gliding along the skin, making it bloom in tiny goosebumps wherever they touch. Kisses and licks flow at the surface of your neck, sealing and sucking over sensitive spots, painting them in pinks, reds, and purples. Big palms cover the hills of your breasts, thumbs sweep over the nipples so gently, that you’re not even sure if you imagined it.  
Your naked body shivers underneath his, and arches into his warm embrace, as his lips press silent praises into your skin. You open your eyes, and you don’t know which is brighter - the sunshine pouring through the windows, or the sunshine of his hair. You can touch his hair though. So you do, and the soft rivers of gold cascade and tickle in between your fingers. Atsumu raises his gaze and smiles against your skin, lighting up your heart.  
Reaching your heat, he pulls the strings of your pleasure with each kiss, each flick of his tongue, and you sing the ballad he composes. In this concert you’re the star, you’re the diva, and he’s merely there to worship you, to accompany your voice, to encourage and appreciate. He’s guiding you through the quiet breathy parts, not much louder than a whisper. He’s caressing the keys, adding more passion, more force, more depth, eliciting notes reaching higher, pushing you through a crescendo, rapidly, lovingly, until you’re nothing but an effusion of pleads and cries of his name.  
“Atsumu, come back to me.” You breathe out.  
And he’s walking the path again, kissing the ground he steps on, coming back to where he belongs, where he wants to belong. Your eyes meet when he glides into you, slowly, carefully, as if any sharp movement would shatter you and this moment. Atsumu nibbles at your lips and you let him in, let his tongue dance with yours, as your fingers intertwine.  
One more push joins your hips, and you both let out a breathy sigh. He pulls back and rolls back in, making sure you feel all the veins, until his tip kisses your cervix. And again. And once more.  
“Ah… Tsumu…” And he knows he’s lost.  
“God, yer so beautiful.”  
You’re sinking in his eyes like molten chocolate, and the whole world ceases to exist. There’s only you and him, and the flame spilling from where you’re joined, overtaking your bodies, minds, and senses. It’s too much, it wells up in your eyes and overspills, and he’s quick to brush it away. A kiss is placed on your temple and travels down your cheek and onto your neck. With a free hand you rub mindless patterns on his back, scrape at his nape, while his roams down along your skin, adorning all the curves.  
You moan into his shoulder at the sudden touch. He only grazes your clit and you’re fluttering, pulling him deeper inside of you. The movement is slow, as slow as the roll of his hips, as the drag of his tongue on your throat. But it spreads like a wildfire, floods your mind in waves until everything is drowned in a white haze and explodes in a million stars.  
“Come with me”  
And he does. He paints his own milky way inside of you, releasing galaxies upon galaxies until he pours everything he has, until he’s empty and you’re full.  
He does, because he would follow you anywhere.


End file.
